Hark! the curfew, friend to night,
Banishes the cheerful light;
Now the scholar, monk, and sage--
All by lamp that con the page--
All to whom the light is dear
Sigh that sullen knell to hear!
Labour now with day is done;
To the wave the weary sun
Rushes, from its cool to borrow
Vigour for his course to-morrow:
Yet, in kindness, scorning quite
Thus to rob the world of light,
He lends the moon his useful beams,
And through the night by proxy gleams.
Kine unyok’d, sheep safely penn’d,
Ploughmen, hind, and shepherd wend
To the hostel’s welcome latch,
From the tankard’s draught to snatch
Strength, relax’d, which, blithe of strain,
Deeds of day they act again!
Now the nightingale’s sad note
Through the listening air ’gins float,
Warning youth in warded tower,
Maiden in her greenwood bower;
’Tis the very witching time,
Dear alike to love and rhyme!
Every lover, at the strain,
Speeds the shady grove to gain,
Where awaits the treasur’d maid;
Where each care and toil’s repaid!
Each fond heart now lightly veers,
With alternate hopes and fears;
Each fond heart now sweetly glows,
With love’s rapturous joys and woes;
Each fond heart--ah, why not mine!--
Gently hails the day’s decline;
But, alas! mine,--woe is me!--
Is benumb’d by apathy;
Is indifference’ dull throne--
There she reigns, unmov’d, alone!
There one stagnant calm presides,
Chilling all sweet feelings’ tides!
Ah, methinks, I fierce despair
Better than such calm could bear:
I have nought to hope or fear--
No emotion claims a tear--
No soft rapture wakes a smile,
Meeding centuries of toil!
Listless, sad, forlorn, I rove,
Feeling still the heart wants Love!
Nought to me can pleasure give,
Shadow of the dead I live!
No sweet maid’s consenting blush
On my cheek brings rapture’s flush!
No fond maiden’s tender tear
Thrills my soul with transports dear!
No kind maiden’s kiss bestows
Blest reward for all my woes!
No sweet maid’s approving smile
Beams my labours to beguile!
Best incentive Love can claim,
Leading age to wealth and fame.
A lone and lonely being I,
Only seem to live--to die!
With mankind my vacant heart
Feels as if it had no part!
Love, thy slave I’d rather be,
Than free, if this is being free!
Rather feel thy worst annoy,
Than live and never know thy joy!
Come, then, let thy keenest dart,
Drive this loath’d Freedom from my heart:
I’ll bear whole ages of thy pain,
One moment of thy bliss to gain!